


Men Don't Cry

by BlackOrbit



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Bandito Tour, Depressed Tyler Joseph, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions Of Blurryface, Self-Doubt, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, World Tour 2019, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 14:38:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21078455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackOrbit/pseuds/BlackOrbit
Summary: Success isn't what counts most. It is what's left once the veil is lifted, revealing an ugly and cruel truth.





	Men Don't Cry

Tyler thinks he must look pretty pathetic. Hot water is rushing down on him as he watches the pink jet of water disappearing into the drain. His breath hitches and only one heartbeat later there's another wave of red mixing with the clear aqua. 

His eyes sting and he knows it's not only because of the water's heat which makes his body feel like he is burning alive. Tyler is well aware they're red and swollen and puffy, just like they always are when he once again ends up crying, alone and far away from anyone who could possibly witness this weakness.

One rapid motion, a practised movement, quick and neat. With some kind of maniac fascination, Tyler watches the red liquid oozing out. He hisses and feels the fresh cut burning under the stream of water falling down on him. Still, Tyler can't tear his eyes away as he stares down on the irritated skin on his arms. _Ugly._

Yet so _fascinating_.

It's pathetic, it really is. A man, young and successful and with nothing, _nothing_ to complain about, yet so sad. And Tyler doesn't even _know_ what it is that constantly makes him feel that way. What it is that causes so much _pain_ to him, what lets him suffer and cry for hours, daily.__

_ __ _

He can't explain it. 

_ __ _

Instead of being exhilirated and _happy_, for being able to live his dream, to perform on stage, to be with _Josh_, he just feels _empty_ inside. So, so empty. It's pathetic. The show has ended, just an hour ago, but all of the adrenaline that let him jump in excitment has vanished, leaving nothing than sadness behind. He is pathetic. _God_, he knows. 

_ __ _

Tyler's eyes are glued to the tiles in front of him. He feels the cold wall in his back, he feels the wet he's sitting in, feels the water running over his skin, but his stare is vacant. His gaze is fixed on a stain on one of the yellow, ugly tiles, but he's not _looking_, not really. Instead, he just stares right through it and his mind is far away. He's trapped in his own head. 

_ __ _

Tyler knows the danger of letting his mind wander, of submitting the control over his thoughts to _him_, but he just can't bring himself to gain his focus back. There's a wave of red vanishing in the drain as tears cloud his sight. 

_ __ _

_"Stop crying, Tyler. Tyler! I said _stop_!"_

_ __ _

No. _No_. He doesn't want to remember, he doesn't want to be reminded. _Stop._

_ __ _

_"Only girls and _weak_ people cry, do you hear me? Are you a girl? Are you weak? I expect my son to not be one of those sordid and poor creatures, got it? _Got it, Tyler?_"_

_ __ _

Tyler shakes his head rapidly in an attempt to fight the recurring, never ending flashbacks. He wants to scream, wants to punch or throw something against that stupid yellow wall, he wants to do anything just to _banish_ these toxic thoughts- 

_ __ _

A choked sob ripples through the small cabine and Tyler bites down on his lower lip harshly while another fine line appears on his left wrist. The blood mixes with the hot water rushing down on him instantly. Tyler tastes blood on his tongue. He grimaces. 

_ __ _

_"Stop crying, Tyler!"_

_ __ _

"I can't", Tyler sobs and hisses as the blade slices through an already open wound, cutting even deeper. He knows what his father would think of him and say to him and _do_ to him, if he saw him now, in a situation like this that symbolizes nothing but weakness. 

_ __ _

_"Rebellious behaviour needs to be punished and you know the consequences of acting against my orders."_

_ __ _

"Dad, please don't...", Tyler whimpers and lets his head sink to his chest, his entire body limp and his eyes hollow. 

_ __ _

_ __ _

Tyler doesn't know how much time had passed when he finally finds enough strength to lift himself up. His skin is wrinkled already, the water definitely showing its impact, and he knows he should get dressed soon- due to Josh, who wanted to come and pick him up for eating later. Tyler is aware he should hurry, probably, but the speed he moves with is almost not even visible. Instead, he lingers in front of the sink, staring at his own reflection in the steamy mirror. 

_ __ _

Of course Tyler knows what it is that upsets him. It would be a lie, if he told himself he didn't. He is used to most of the nasty words constantly echoing in his mind. Thoughts that concern almost everything possible, from his weight to his looks to his entire self. But there is something _new_, something like an infecting spark rooted in the depths of his head. A new fear, a new threat, a new reason to panic every time he thinks of it. 

_ __ _

He doesn't know why it causes so much pain in his chest, he can't tell why it takes his breath away and makes him struggle for every piece of air, but when he thinks about _all those shows_ that are still there to follow tonight's gig... he wants to vomit. The tour has barely started, the show they just finished was only the third of many, many more- but Tyler begs for it to end already, nevertheless. 

_ __ _

He knows, he _knows_ he should be more motivated, more thankful for everything he and Josh achieved and for all the chances and opportunites they got. He _knows_ he should take everything just a bit easier and shouldn't worry about any small inconvenience, _normal_ people wouldn't even pay a single spark of attention to. And yes, he also knows he should go out more, with Josh or with the crew, instead of hiding in his bunk, in the dressing room or in his single hotel room. He should enjoy and relish every moment of this tour and he really doesn't need Mark to tell and remind him of how big of a chance this is and that all of that won't ever happen again. But Tyler _is_ in his hotel room, alone, and _is_ slowly losing himself in all those thoughts he is so, so afraid of. 

_ __ _

Because how, how is he supposed to manage all those following shows? They expect him to handle it like a normal, like a _healthy_ person but don't they know he just can't do that? Don't they see his struggle? When Tyler thinks about all the _thousands_ of people attending their shows, when he images them, _all of them_, looking at him, _staring_ at him, his whole body is trembling. 

_ __ _

He is convinced, he is _sure_, there is just no way he could ever be good enough. How is his voice supposed to last until the very end of the tour, if it's breaking and cracking _already_? What if his voice just gives out? What if he gets ill? And worst of all, what if Josh gets sick of him, what if he finally realises he's not worth that much attention and affection? _Oh god_. 

_ __ _

Sometimes Tyler just feels like, no matter how much he tries, no matter how much he gives, he will never be good enough for anyone. Not for the fans, not for his crew, not for his parents, not for _Josh_ and even less for himself. He can't see why anybody would find his lyrics nor his music _inspiring_ or _beautiful_. His focus only lies on the _obvious_, and that is the fact that there are more than a dozen of concerts to master, the fact that there still are _months_ to pass until they are allowed to rest again. It's about the depression, it's about these constant _thoughts_ and it's about the weight he carries on his shoulders, day after day, which consists of unsolved trauma, fears, anxiety and disappointments. 

_ __ _

Everybody, literally everybody, knows about his dodgy and complicated mind-set, about the heavy and dark thoughts he constantly burdens his own self with. But, for some reason, they also believe he has it _under control_. Somehow they think writing songtexts concerning his own problems and regularly shouting the lyrics out to thousands of people would help him cope and make him forget. Tyler almost chokes out a laugh. 

_ __ _

Tyler's gaze drops to the exposed skin on his arms and legs. Oh, and how well he got it under control. 

_ __ _

_ "-don't cry! Are you even listening to me? Men. Don't. Cry! You little-"_

__

"I'm not crying, Dad." 

__

And Tyler _isn't_, he is not. Instead, his stare is vacant and his eyes are empty. Right now, there are simply no tears left to share. 

__

He thinks about the too many pills he has to swallow daily and wonders how people can misunderstand his smiles and words so easily. It's a fact that he always tries to make everyone believe he's okay, it is, but nevertheless, the disappointment is still there. He is disappointed in every single one of them who doesn't even _try_ to see past his mask. 

__

Tyler sighs and eyes the wounds on his body again. He grabs a small plastic box that stands next to the sink and picks a handful of band-aids out of it. Silently, he decides which wounds look mostly like they need to be bandaged and while he covers cut after cut he wonders if there even is _one_ single human being that cares for him and that would mourn for him if he wasn't there anymore one day. He doubts it. Noone. There is noone. 

__

It hurts to think about it, but it's the truth nevertheless. Not one, not two, no- Many, many times more did Tyler spend with thoughts creeping out of the darkest places of his head. Sometimes it even scares _him_, when he ponders over distant places and dreams of a life easier than _this_. Would it really make that much of a difference, if he simply disappeared? Noone would notice and noone would miss him and even if they did, he's sure they would overcome his vanishing quite easily. 

__

While Tyler slowly gets dressed, now wearing plain jeans and a black hoodie, he thinks that maybe he isn't a hundred percent right. There _is_ someone who cares, who permanentely checks on him and watches over his well-being. Somebody who would come over at dead of night just to comfort him after once again having a breakdown after a too stressful day. Tyler's lip crack into something that could be considered a smile. Josh, Josh will always be there for him, no matter what. The drummer always knows what Tyler is feeling, always knows when he is upset or when he needs to be alone. 

__

Just as to prove his thoughts, Tyler can hear a hefty knock on the door to his hotel room. He tears his gaze of the pale, moping man in the mirror away and moves to open it. 

__

When he opens the wooden door timidly, he is greeted with a brown-haired, good-looking man, who wears a green shirt and a grey snapback. Josh instantly slides his phone into the pocket of his jeans and gives Tyler a smile, showing two rows of white teeth. "What'ya up to?", Josh asks and his smile widens into a grin. 

__

"Not much", answers Tyler and drops his eyes to the floor briefly. When there is no response from his friend, he looks up again, only to find the smile on Josh's face gone, he now looks at him with stern eyes. Tyler gasps. 

__

A second passes and then another. Tyler listens to the pounding in his chest while he eyes the older one with an unsure expression on his face. He knows Josh has a clue about what has been going on in the past minutes, he can tell it from the way he's now staring at him. He supposes he should know that look in those eyes by now, that look that speaks of nothing but concern and worry. Tyler cringes. 

__

But then Josh suddenly bends down and grabs a little plastic bag that's lying next to his feet and which Tyler only now notices. "Here, take this", Josh says and there it is again, that wry smile. Tyler's heart eases. "I had the sudden vision of you needing a RedBull." 

__

Warily, Tyler lifts his hand and accepts the small present and peeks into it shyly, seeing two cans of his favourite drink in there. "Thank you", he mumbles and holds the bag close to his chest. There's a moment of silence but then Josh nods and pointing somewhere to his left with both his hands, he says: "Now let's get some food. I really am starving!" Tyler nods and quickly grabs his key before locking the door. 

__

While they walk down the hallway side by side, him opening one of the cans, Tyler can clearly feel Josh's eyes on him. He is convinced he still looks like an absolute mess, like he'd been crying for hours, with those red eyes and the bags underneath. But the older man doesn't say a word and remains silent until they've left the building and even then he only speaks up to ask where they should head to eat. Tyler quietly releases his breath and responds with the name of the first location that comes to his mind. 

__

They walk close to each other and while Josh excitedly tells him about the new game he definitely wants to buy once the tour is over, Tyler thinks about how grateful he should be to have such a friend like Josh. He never asks, only listens and waits for _him_ to come up with whatever worries him, always trying to make Tyler feel better with his quiet yet understanding way. And Tyler _is_ thankful for that.

__

**Author's Note:**

> Guys! These past months have been exciting! I started my training in March, moved to basically the other side of Germany and will move back again next week! ^^" I barely found any time to write, even though I started writing this story in March already. But NOW, finally, my inspiration is back and I even have some ideas for a christmas project. :3  
The idea for this story came after the concert in February and when I re-watched it back then (the one in Cologne), it actually made me cry. Cut My Lip is my new favourite song, it's just so painfully beautiful!


End file.
